sometimes when I put on a little too much makeup
drink a little too much
and smile in a certain way
in the fuzzier hours of night
I see her face in mine
at first a shock but then I welcome it because
I find
it’s the closest thing
to bringing her back to life
from the dead
sometimes in the afternoon sun
I catch my black cat
out of the corner of my eye
in the magical recesses of periphery
and I see instead my
dead
black
cat
gone for over a year
slinking toward me
her claws tapping the cold kitchen tile
fat
slow
and so endearingly ordinary
looking for solace from
the grating existence of all people on earth
the source of her eternal anxiety
or maybe seeking out
just one more cheek scratch
before taking her final leave